


Two Kisses

by Ailette



Category: Psych
Genre: Imported, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2214165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to kiss the princess to find out that the frog is the better choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Kisses

It had taken them forever to get here. From the first time they met, Shawn had known he really wanted to… well, _tap that_. It was a reaction he was used to around beautiful women and more often then not, his wish was fulfilled not hours later. With Juliet, it was different. Maybe it would have been the same if she hadn’t been on duty and if he had never had to see her again afterwards.

It was difficult to have a one nightstand with someone you would inevitably see again on a regular basis.

Without thinking about it, he started to flirt with her even after he learned who she was. Whether it was to rile up Lassie, to get something he needed from Jules or just a genuine joy in doing it, he kept it up. A challenge wasn’t something Shawn would back down from. Unless it came from Henry. And so, the inevitable build up began in Juliet and Shawn’s life.

When they finally, after years of winks and gestures, clever word-plays and many ambiguous meetings and situations, reached the climax, Shawn felt giddier than he could remember ever having felt since finishing high school.

They stood in the back of the darkened shooting range, the only light hailing from the far away illuminated targets. Juliet’s gun lay all but forgotten at the side, thankfully secured as Shawn nearly knocked it to the ground when he made the last quick step forward, his hazel eyes boring down into her as he slowly leaned forward.

It felt like elementary school all over again. The first long awaited kiss, the thing that would change his life and bring him to the next level, whatever that may be. What Shawn didn’t expect when their lips met, was to feel the same hesitation he had felt such a long time ago. He’d kissed hundreds of girls and honestly could say he’d never gotten any complaints, but right now, he _didn’t know what to do_.

Ignoring the short awkwardness, he tilted his head slightly to the left, only to bump foreheads with Jules as she did the same. He opened up his mouth carefully to slip his tongue over her lips, but their teeth clashed instead. Frustration was seeping into him, slowly but surely, and with fierce determination he brought his hands up to cup Jules face, hold her in the same place so this could work. His fingers got tangled up in her hair instead and with a not so children friendly curse, he pulled away.

The technical difficulties were enough to throw him off balance, but he already had a witty phrase on his lips to make light of the situation. He never let odd problems keep him from getting laid. Again, if things had been different, the whole situation might have ended on a more pleasant note. As it was, Jules spoke before he could.

“This isn’t working,” she said, sounding honestly surprised. Shawn’s jaw dropped a little.

“Come on! That might not have been the most elegant kiss in American history, but that still leaves European—”

Eyes still wide, Juliet shook her head, long blond hair swishing to both sides. Shawn couldn’t see any of the knots his fingers had been stopped by. “That’s not what I meant, Shawn, and you know it.” A heartfelt sigh, “This,” she gestured towards their mouths, “feels way too technical. It’s not… It should be easy, you know? I always thought it would feel just _right_.”

She shot him a pleading look, hoping to find understanding in Shawn’s eyes and completely unaware of the terror in her own. All she could see was confusion. Still, realizing what it was that Jules so desperately needed here, Shawn plastered an easy grin on his face and nodded. Regret wasn’t a pretty sight on her. “I know,” he agreed, simple and easy; the following shrug of his shoulders almost seemed over the top. It was the right thing to say; Juliet’s face lit up and she drew him in for a quick hug. It almost happened to fast for the fake psychic.

“I’m so glad! I couldn’t stand it if one bad decision would ruin our friendship. And, hey, I bet it’s better this is out of the way now than later.” Shawn had expected the words to sting more and was surprised to realize that he was also relieved that their relationship wouldn’t change. After a quick good-bye, they went their separate ways. Jules back to her desk to get her purse and Shawn on his way to his motorbike. He didn’t notice the worried look Lassiter send after both of them or how his eyes stayed on Shawn until after the doors of the station swung shut behind him.

The feeling of uncertainty in his chest made the ride home an unpleasant one. Yes, he was glad they would stay friends. But, at the same time, he questioned his own motives. What had his goal been? It was strange that after years of pursuing it, this was the first time he thought about it. The purpose of flirting was to get the other person into bed. That much was clear. But what then? If the kiss had been fine, then what would they have done next?

They would have become a couple.

The thought made Shawn frown. How had he not thought about this before? True, he wasn’t one to think ahead four steps; it was the reason he disliked chess (never mind that he was very good at it). He liked getting from one unexpected situation into the next; it was what made his life fun and exciting. Knowing you would end up in jail when you pissed off your dad wasn’t fun, but when you just unexpectedly ended up there, it wasn’t so terrible then. It just _happened_.

Would it have been terrible to end up in a relationship with Jules?

Maybe it would have, maybe it wouldn’t. The point was he didn’t mind not knowing. He would have been fine with a night of harmless adult entertainment and then just being friends again. Jules wouldn’t have been. And it made a little more sense then, the things Jules had said. It didn’t explain everything, though. In theory, Shawn understood that she wanted someone to share her bed and life with every day. Practically, he didn’t get what she meant by ‘This isn’t working,’ or the kiss not feeling ‘right’ or ‘easy’. A kiss was always the same, right? It was always just a kiss, a form of foreplay to get to the good part.

Replaying the kiss and their conversation in his head, he tried to find the mistake. After all, he had to have done something wrong. He compared it to all the other awkward kisses he’d had, and even though not all of them had led to sex, definitely no other women had ever said anything like Juliet.

It just didn’t make sense.

*** 

Their friendship didn’t suffer from what Shawn had come to dub The Wrong Move in his head. If he had to contemplate the changes at all, he would even say that they were for the better. Some tension between them he had never really been aware of before was suddenly gone, allowing conversations to flow more freely and somehow, the flirting stayed, but it was now just good fun and they were both aware of it.

So all was good and there was just one thing nagging him, a very insistent memory constantly reminding him of one silly sounding question. “What differences should you expect when kissing different people?”

He knew, of course, that every person kissed differently. Some slow and sensual, others sloppy and hasty and some urgent and demanding; the list was endless, really. He also knew that those differences couldn’t have been what Jules meant. The next time he kissed a girl, he paid closer attention, half hoping and half fearing her first words after their lips met. But the blonde just smiled sweetly up at him, her hands easily folded behind his neck. “You’re a great kisser,” she giggled and leaned up again. All Shawn could think about was the icky feeling of too much lip gloss on his lips.

It was nice, just like it always was, but now, he felt like there was something _missing_. He didn’t even know what it was, but he was annoyed that his otherwise perfectly fine night could be ruined by something he didn’t even understand. At first, he thought it would be a one time thing. After about five other slightly unsatisfying nights later, he was just about ready to go and ask Jules what the hell _it_ was and only resisted because he remembered how her face had lit up in relief that night. Hell, he would have gone and asked Henry at this point, if his father had been in town and not on one of his stupid fishing trips.

Gus flat out refused to listen to him any further when he started in on the topic. He loved his best friend, he really did, but when Gus pressed his palms against his ears and began to loudly hum “Isn’t it Ironic” he felt like slapping him upside the head. A lot.

So in the end, he went to Tom Blair’s Pub again in the evening, none the wiser. Feeling like easing his own mood a little faster than usual, he started out with some Jim Beam, even though he had to wince every time he took a sip. His heart wasn’t in it when he tried to chat up the first girl, the second was waiting for her boyfriend to come back, the third just flat out shook her head no without any explanation and by the time he hit on the fourth, he was so drunk that he didn’t even notice her wedding ring.

Completely deflated, he lowered himself onto one of the barstools and pitifully asked the bartender to refill his glass. Hank shot him a disapproving look and took his glass away from Shawn, without filling it up again.

“I think you’ve had enough for one night, Shawn,” he said sternly. Shawn inwardly cursed his habit of making friends with the staff. Sometimes, all you needed was a complete stranger who wouldn’t give a mouse’s ass about whether or not his customer was going to die of alcohol poisoning. Mouse’s ass? Shawn frowned at the shelf full of bottles before him. That wasn’t right. Guinea pig? Squirrel? Rat? It had to be something small and fluffy. Shrugging, he got up and fumbled for his keys.

He didn’t expect the steadying hand on his arm that swiftly snatched the keys out of his hand and sat him back down. Once again, it was Hank. “You’re not getting on that motorcycle of yours.”

“But then how am I going to get home?” Shawn whined shamelessly, at this point figuring he could worry about his dignity later.

Hank sighed. “Gimme your cell.” Shawn handed it over wordlessly. He was still trying to decide what quip to make about Hank’s mother hen qualities. “I’m going to call your designated driver.”

A half nod was all Shawn could manage in form of an answer. Now that his head was buzzing nicely enough to drown out all those annoying questions, he didn’t really care what that meant. The bar had a system for their regulars, each of them had to name someone who would come to pick them up if they made trouble or got too drunk to get home by themselves. Since Shawn wasn’t usually the type to drink himself into oblivion, he had thoughtlessly (and, admittedly, with a smirk) filled in the same name he had as emergency contact.

It couldn’t have been for long, but Shawn must have fallen asleep at some point, because he was woken up by an insistent hand on his shoulder, shaking him none too gently back to consciousness. Groggily, he blinked open his eyes to find Santa Barbara’s Head Detective hovering next to him. His hair was slightly tousled and he was wearing a pair of old jeans and a hastily buttoned up shirt; he must have just gotten up.

“Lassie!” Shawn slurred happily, not feeling bad in the slightest for obviously disturbing the other man’s good night sleep. “You came!”

His only answer was a scowl and then Lassiter turned back to Hank. Shawn didn’t catch what they were talking about, but figured that it was probably about him. Instead, he continued to smile at himself, still ridiculously pleased that Lassie had shown up. The only reason he had written down the detective’s name was because he knew it would annoy the hell out of him and Gus was sure to ignore his phone in the middle of the night. A teeny, tiny serious part of him might have done it because he didn’t know anyone as responsible and loyal as Carlton Lassiter, but he would never admit to that out loud.

Just as he was beginning to feel drowsy again, an arm sneaked around his waist and easily heaved him up from the bar stool. “Can you still walk okay?”

Shawn gaped stupidly up at the older man, for once a little slow on the uptake. Lassie just rolled his eyes, tightened his hold on the fake psychic and began to slowly walk him to his red Crown Vic which was conveniently parked just a few steps from the Pub’s door. Carefully, he placed Shawn in the passenger seat and buckled him in before he also got in the car and started up the engine. It was the beginning of a very quiet ride. Lassie never was one for a lot of words and Shawn was too tired to string them together in the right order.

Instead, he marvelled at how things had shifted since he’d first come back to his hometown. Over the last three years, nearly everything had changed. He’d had one steady job (never mind how unorthodox that job was), was getting along fairly well with his father, had discovered that there was still something about the art of kissing he wasn’t aware of and, maybe the biggest change of all, he and Lassie were friendly with each other. It wasn’t anything like with Jules or Gus, but amazing in its own right. In the beginning, at the very same time he had first written down Lassiter’s name as his emergency contacts, the other man had never even shown the patience to listen to a word Shawn said. They clashed constantly, more often physically than not. But now, it was different.

There was a trust there between them, still a new and fragile thing. Lassie trusted Shawn’s info on cases and to stay on it until it was over, he listened to what he had to say, even though he still mostly disagreed with it after hearing it. He took Shawn seriously in a way that most people wouldn’t dream of, and though Shawn had to admit that it scared him a little, it also felt good.

“We’re here.”

The softly spoken words made Shawn jump in his seat. Frantically, he looked around, belatedly realising that the car had stopped, Lassie had gotten out and opened the passenger’s door.

“Oh. Right,” he mumbled dumbly and tried to sit up, only to be stopped by the seat belt. Sighing, Lassie bent over him to unfasten it and then help the fake psychic out into the fresh night air.

“Ever the gentleman,” Shawn chuckled quietly as they made their way to the doorstep. There was no response and Shawn didn’t really expect one in the first place. “Hey. Wait.”

Lassie didn’t falter in his steps and simply dragged Shawn along for the last few steps until he could close the front door behind him. “This isn’t my apartment,” Shawn protested weakly as he was swaying on the spot.

The lead detective gave him a look that clearly said ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ but other than that just shook his head. “I don’t know where you live and I seriously doubt that you could point me in the right direction, so you’re sleeping here tonight.” It was said in such a dry way that absolutely prohibited any kind of arguing, that Shawn found himself nodding. He really wasn’t up for any kind of surprises when he was drunk and tired.

Lassie steered him towards the uncomfortable looking couch and sat him down. “Take off your shoes and lie down. I’ll just get a blanket and some pillows.”

By the time Shawn had done as he was told, Lassie was back with the promised bedding, an empty bucket and a bottle of water. “Drink this before you sleep, it’ll make the headache a little better tomorrow.”

“What’s really going to give me a headache tomorrow is sleeping on this couch,” Shawn muttered, but took a few deep gulps of the offered bottle nonetheless. He was dog-tired and wanted nothing more than sleep, but it was clear that Lassie wouldn’t let him until the damn bottle was empty.

“It’s your own fault for drinking that much,” Lassie accused without any real heat in his voice. “Why did you do it, anyway?”

Shawn turned his attention on the bottle in his hands, unsure what he should say. He could just make something up; maybe a fight with Henry or some story about how he’d been dumped by Hank (he’d really like to see Lassie’s reaction to that one). But when he looked up again and found worried blue eyes on him, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. Not after the older man had gotten out of bed for him in the middle of the night and was still taking care of him now. He just couldn’t. Later, he would blame it on the alcohol.

“I can’t figure it out.”

Lassiter didn’t say anything, simply waiting for further explanation. Shawn was pretty sure that if the older man had interrupted the silence at this point, he’d never have continued talking.

“A few weeks ago Jules and I kissed.” He studied Lassie’s face for any kind of judgement, but there was just the smallest beginning of understanding. Juliet’s and his change in pace really must have been obvious to everyone. “It was kind of awkward, didn’t really work – no biggie.”

Shawn shrugged and took another sip of water. “But she said something and I just… can’t figure out what that means.”

“What did she say?” Lassiter’s face was still blissfully devoid of contempt.

“ _’This isn’t working_ ,’” Shawn began to quote; for the moment uncaring if the lead detective would pick up on his unusually sharp memory. “ _’It should be easy, you know? I always thought it would feel just **right**_ ,’” he hesitated for a second before he finally said what had been on his mind ever since he’d first heard those words. “I don’t understand what she means. A kiss is just a kiss, right? It’s always the same, people just kiss differently. I don’t get what she’s making such a big deal of! And… after that, when I picked up some girl, it didn’t feel so good anymore. Something’s missing and I don’t even know what.”

His eyes met Lassie’s directly for what felt like the first time this night. “What am I missing?” He winced slightly at the vulnerable and pitiful quality of his voice and hastily emptied the rest of the bottle.

“You really don’t know what she meant?” Lassiter sounded suspicious, like he expected Shawn to make a joke about it all the next second. Shawn couldn’t really blame him. Nodding slightly, he continued to stare at the now empty bottle. “Haven’t you ever been in love?”

It was asked in such a soft and compassionate way that Shawn could barely believe who it came from. It made it a little easier to shake his head. He’d had countless ‘relationships’ but none of them had ever been serious, never had he been with someone because he absolutely couldn’t not.

“It’s… different when you kiss somebody who loves you. I can’t really describe it,” Lassiter admitted embarrassed. It was weird to hear him explain something this patiently; obviously taking his time to make sure Shawn understood. Like he really cared that the pseudo psychic did. It made Shawn smile very slightly, thinking that if he was more serious about things, Lassiter might react honestly to him more often. “You just feel the difference. O’Hara and you have been flirting for so long, I’m sure she always thought that if you two did get together, it would be the big happy end, with the two of you ending up married and with lots of kids. I was always pretty sure of that as well.”

Shawn grinned at him wryly. “I’m flattered, really, but I think it’ll be difficult for us to have kids. Of course, there have been pregnant men before. But they used to be women. You know, with the female junk and all,” he seemed to ponder the facts for a second. “We could think about having some crazy sci-fi modifications done. But I don’t know who’d carry the baby.” Shawn shot Lassiter a quick look. “Then again, I can’t see you as anything but a top so that would probably be me. Do you think I have the hips for that? Wait. Don’t answer that. Answer this instead: When you picture us having sex, do I always have to bottom? Because I don’t like monotony.” It was a lame attempt to rile the older man up, so he didn’t expect Lassie to even honour it with any kind of reaction. He certainly wasn’t expecting the one he got.

“That’s not… I’m not… I’ve never thought about you and me in that way.”

Shawn’s eyes widened in surprise as he heard the sudden nervous stuttering; saw the suddenly wildly blown up pupils and the twitching right beneath his left eyebrow. A single one of these signs would have been enough to tell Shawn that Lassiter was lying. All of them at once… well. The detective looked flustered and his eyes were frantically searching the room for something to focus on; everything but Shawn. It took Shawn a second to interpret this unusual behaviour. It was a peculiar feeling when he did. Carlton Lassiter had feelings for him. His heart seemed to tighten at the realization.

“But!” He shouted disbelievingly. “But – you never said anything! I was around you practically every day and you never said anything! I didn’t even notice!” Shawn honestly couldn’t say which surprised him more. The fact that he’d been so oblivious or the sheer selflessness of someone silently suffering through having to see someone they like flirt with more or less everyone around him. His heart was skipping every second beat at this point.

Lassiter seemed even more embarrassed now than he had before. “Don’t worry about it; I won’t do anything. Just forget it. If you don’t want to sleep here now, I can fully understand. I can call Guster or O’Hara if you want me to. Or I could get a hotel room for the night and you just sleep here—” Agitated, the detective got up, obviously on his way to the phone.

“Wait!” Shawn had grabbed his wrist before he was fully aware what he wanted to say. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not unpleasant or anything! I’m just… Jeez, give a guy a second to adjust, will you? I’m just surprised, is all. I always figured you to be painfully straight.”

Lassiter didn’t try to wrench his arm away, but he also didn’t sit down again. He just stood there; cheeks flushed a slight pink and staring down at the fake psychic, giving nothing more away. “It doesn’t… bother you?”

Shawn shook his head violently; anything to get Lassie to stay. “I mean, I’m not gay and I have mostly dated women for the last couple of years, but I’m flexible. Totally unbothered! There’s nothing about man on man action that bothers me. Trust me. Nothing.” He stopped for a second to let his brain catch up with his mouth. “That didn’t quite come out like I meant it,” he admitted.

Silence followed his revelation, but it didn’t feel forced or uncomfortable. He started to fidget with the bottle again, his other hand never leaving Lassie’s wrist, still afraid of what might happen if he did. “Please don’t go?” he quietly asked. An idea was forming in the back of his mind, he just wasn’t sure how to voice it yet without it sounding utterly ridiculous or getting him kicked out. He wasn’t used to life altering possibilities suddenly popping up right in front of him.

“Can you…” he gestured down to the edge of the couch and made a bit more space. Hesitantly, Lassie sat down, his eyes now completely focused on Shawn. The fake psychic swallowed audibly. “You know, I always thought you couldn’t stand me.”

“I couldn’t, in the beginning. And I still can’t stand liars.” It was said firmly and without any malice, but it still hurt for Shawn to hear it. “But you’re a good man. I don’t know how you do it, but you’re doing it to catch the bad guys and you put your own life at risk to do it sometimes. You astound me.”

Shawn felt a smile creep across his face at the familiar words. It was nice to hear them like this. “Thanks,” he said, meaning it. He coughed a little before he continued. “Can you… um… I know this sounds stupid, but could you… I’d really…” He took a deep, steadying breath, willing the words to simply come out. “Could you kiss me?”

Lassiter looked surprised by the question, but only for a moment. “You still want to figure out what O’Hara said.”

Shawn was afraid that he’d made the older man angry now; he could all too well understand it if he had. Even he knew that it was the wrong reason to ask for a kiss and at the same time it was presumptuous to assume that just because Lassiter felt something for him he was actually in love with him. And willing to admit it.

“Close your eyes.” While Shawn had lost himself in his thoughts, the detective had bent forward, his face only inches away from Shawn’s. For a moment, he was too transfixed by the intense blue of Lassiter’s eyes to follow the order, but then he did.

It was just a soft touch of lips to his at first, still a little hesitant. He could feel Lassiter’s warm hand sneak up as it cupped his face, a tongue softly sweeping over his bottom lip at the same time as his head was softly tilted backwards. He opened his mouth without thought and moaned quietly into the other man’s mouth as their tongues met. Lassiter took advantage of the situation to explore Shawn’s mouth to the fullest, licking and sucking and softly nibbling until Shawn was completely lost in the sensation.

When Lassiter eventually pulled back, Shawn was gasping for air, eyes out of focus as he realized his own hands had buried themselves into the soft material of the other man’s shirt and kept him from pulling away further. This was… definitely different.

“Do that again,” he demanded and pulled Lassiter closer again. The next kiss was just as good as the first, once again leaving him breathless. He was about to whisper ‘Again,’ one more time when Lassiter’s hand slowly untangled his fingers from his shirt.

“I’m not a saint, Spencer,” he said and Shawn took great pleasure in the fact that he was slightly panting. “This has to stop right now or I won’t be able to control myself any longer.”

Shawn’s eyes shot downwards on Lassiter and widened slightly as he saw the bulge there. He looked down on himself and gave an undignified whine. He hadn’t thought about possible other side effects alcohol had. “Sorry.”

Lassiter shook his head. “No, even if you were… up to it,” Shawn snorted, surprised at the other man’s attempted humour. “Nothing else would happen tonight. You’re still drunk and need sleep. We can continue this in the morning if you’ll still want to.” Once again, he got up from the couch, hesitating only for a second before he pressed a brief and fleeting kiss to Shawn’s temple. The younger man’s eyes fluttered close at the gesture, somehow even more overwhelmed by it than their previous kiss. It spoke of such caring, it made Shawn’s whole body feel light. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Shawn whispered, still in awe as he watched Lassie’s retreating back. “Don’t forget about your promise tomorrow!” he then added, feeling a desperate need of confirmation and literally seeing that Lassie didn’t think there would ever be a continuation of this.

Lassiter turned around in the door way, a slow and doubtful smile on his lips. “I should be the one telling you that.”

Shawn shook his head, ignoring the way the spinning seemed to continue even after he’d stopped. “I never forget anything,” he said. He couldn’t explain it to Lassie right now, but the firmness of his voice seemed to convince the other man of the truth of that statement and he turned back with a more honest smile before he closed the door.

Shawn found himself staring at the spot where Lassie’s face had been for a few more minutes, his head buzzing with something other than the alcohol now. He’d finally found his answer.

And more.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Thanks to snh_snh_snh ! :)  
> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/38144.html)


End file.
